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CLARA
Grigore called again.
I was taking a break, my laptop abandoned by my side as I stretched out on Tatum’s huge bed. My heart rate picked up when I saw his name pop up on my caller ID. The last time he called, things had not gone well.
I picked up the phone.
“Hey, Clara,” he began.
Deciding it was best to be civil, I asked, “Hey, Grigore, how are you doing?”
“Well, well. How’s the accounting software going?”
I groaned. “Things were not going well until Luca took time out of his busy schedule to work with me on how to use it. It was very kind of him,” I said. “Now things are going much better. I know that we want to get rid of the accounting guy we have, and we’d hoped this would help us avoid having to depend on anyone, but it’s complicated software. I don’t think you can count on me. This is too important to allow for mistakes.”
Frustration ricocheted through my chest. I didn’t like not being able to complete a task given to me, especially when my clan was counting on me. But our businesses were too intricate for the likes of me to take care of this. A professional was needed.
He let out a sigh. “Not the answer I was looking for, but alright, I’ll look for a replacement.”
“Okay, sounds like a solid plan. I’ve gotten much better, but it’s going to take some time, and even then, I may never be more than proficient.”
“It doesn’t hurt to have someone who knows how it works to keep an eye on the data.”
There was a pause. It certainly felt awkward from my side, but I decided to wait it out and see where Grigore was going to go from here. He wasn’t one to pull his punches.
“So, how are things otherwise? With the Lupu men to be exact,” he clarified.
“It’s going,” I hedged.
Keeping things vague was a good start.
“Tell me more,” he demanded.
“Like I said, I’ve been spending time with Luca. He’s been extremely generous with his time, considering how busy he is having recently returned from his honeymoon. Of course, Tatum checks in with me on a daily basis.”
I held my breath as I waited to see his response. I had Luca go through my laptop and phone to find and deactivate any location apps, so Grigore wouldn’t know where I was living.
“Tatum and you have become friendly then,” he probed. “I’m not getting daily calls from you complaining anymore.”
Drat, I’d forgotten how I called him every day in the beginning. My heart was in my throat. Before Tatum, I’d never lied to anyone in my clan.
“We’re not at each other’s throats, no, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say we’re friends. We’ve settled into a nonabrasive, working relationship. It helps that I’m living with his mother and sister. We certainly couldn’t argue the way we did back home in front of his mother. Both she and his little sister worship the ground he walks on, and it wouldn't do to insult them by arguing with him,” I finished, somewhat annoyed that I had to lie. But it would do us no good to have Grigore suspect something before I got a chance to speak to my father.
“I suppose that’s a good thing,” he conceded. “But remember, they’re still the enemy. Do not doubt that for a moment, Clara. One of those brothers, it might’ve been Luca for all I know, killed Simu in cold blood. Cold. Blood. They’re bloodthirsty motherfuckers, each one of them. Don’t underestimate them for a second.”
Oh, please, Grigore was the most vicious killer I knew. When it came to the Lupu clan, he had no mercy whatsoever. Of course, I understood—Simu was his nephew and best friend. But since I no longer resented the Lupu clan, Grigore’s feud no longer held any weight. Nevertheless, I couldn't admit this to Grigore.
“Believe me, Grigore, I understand your position completely.”
This was a half-truth, but I had no choice. My relationship with Tatum was on the line, and I needed to get Grigore off my back.
“Good,” Grigore said. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m glad to hear that you haven’t been swayed by those bastards. I’ve been digging and I’m getting close to something with my Bratva contact.”
He chuckled darkly, “I want to surprise you when the time is right. Until then, I’ll keep it to myself.”
“Come on, Grigore,” I insisted. “Stop messing around.”
“It may be nothing.”
